


Mind over matter

by anna_sun



Series: Like Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey [3]
Category: Hamilton - Fandom, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Coming In Pants, Light BDSM, M/M, Masturbation, Not as much as the other parts but still, Pain Kink, Porn With Plot, Spanking, like really light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-18 07:18:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7304854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anna_sun/pseuds/anna_sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Really it's no surprise he doesn't make one move to speak to Jefferson in over two weeks.<br/>And it's not that he doesn't think about him, the problem is that he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mind over matter

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. So, hopefully some of you haven't forgotten about this thing. IT'S FINALLY HERE. 
> 
> Every mistake is my own, I'm actually french and have no beta.  
> Though I have to give enormous thanks to Michelle (@kolminye on here and tumblr, get that promo) for helping me through this. 
> 
> Enjoy?

First steps weren't Alexander's thing, so much that he'd only started walking when he'd turned a year and two months old. Which was admittedly late for a baby, especially in the case of first and hesitant steps. In middle school, when it came to group projects, he would never get up and take matters in his own hands. He'd patiently sit there, waiting for someone else to sit by him with the only hope of getting a good grade on the assignment. He hadn't even asked his date out to prom. The girl, Shelly, had shyly left a note in his locker and he'd furiously blushed before nodding over to her. When he got into fights, he could argue until the roof of his mouth bled and his throat hurt from soreness, but when it inevitably ended with the other person giving up on the argument altogether and leaving him dry in his seat, still with a million things to say on his mind, he'd never be the one to go over, apologize or request an apology. He'd just wait.

So really it's no surprise he doesn't make one move to speak to Jefferson in over two weeks.   

And it's not that he doesn't think about him, the problem is that he does. He thinks about him in the shower, hands rubbing his skin clean and rubbing _other things_ , thinks about him when he's working, thinks about the things they used to do when they were supposed to be working. His stupid hair and his goddamn apartment, expensive shower and two hundred thread count bed sheets. It's not fair that he despises the man so much and yet...

Yet.

He'd rather think about it than act upon the thoughts, he decides. Their, relationship, however you'd call it, had started simple enough and had blossomed into something much more complicate he was just not ready to deal it. The guy was too hard to understand. One second he was calling him names, and the next he was cuddling him to sleep. 

Alex just wasn't looking for the latter. 

-

''Cut!'' Dylan yells, and Alex just wants to bury himself deep, deep, into the ground. Let him find peace in his grave. ''Hamilton, what are you doing? Do you need a break?'' 

_Yes, he did._

''No, no, I'm fine, sorry.'' 

Dylan seems far from convinced but he still waves a hand around, telling everybody to get back to it before yelling ''Action!'' in an exasperated voice. 

Alex was supposed to give a motivational speech to the lead, Nina, but he kept forgetting his lines, walking out of frame and just, all in all, being the shittiest actor. He seemed to be quite good at that.  

The day still went but it went slow, Alexander finding himself exhausted and spent at the end of it, just like the day before, and the day before that. The show was airing in less than two months, excitement creeping under everybody's skin, his own not immune to the wave.

''Let's invite everybody over, watch the premiere together.'' Eliza had sweetly suggested when he'd updated her on the matter, hands shaking and smiling even though he couldn't quite figure out how to act around Eliza anymore. He knew she was still talking to John, how could she not, and the _How is he doing_ and _Did he talk about me_ 's were constantly tickling the tip of his tongue. 

''Let's not,'' he'd said promptly, immediately regretting telling her about the premiere in the first place. She meant well, she really did, but he wasn't in the mood for little get-togethers where everybody pretended everything was fine. As if Alex hadn't completely ruined everything and was really worthy of celebrating his work. 

She looked as stern as ever when she stared into his eyes with burning ones and said,

''Alexander,'' name pronounced strongly. ''We love you. Stop being a baby, accept that you fucked up and move on. It's been months, will you please do us a favor and forgive yourself?'' 

The laugh rightly sounded bitter when it escaped his mouth, followed by, 

''I will if John ever does.'' 

Obviously she didn't have anything to say to that, so much that she'd stayed silent for a second too long before finally walking away.  

-

Mornings were far from Alex's favorite things, but they were the only time of the day his brain could focus enough for him to be able to write more than two sentences at a time. Be it either at 3 AM, cursed with restlessness as he typed away in the silence of the night, or 7 AM, up and ignoring his horrible breath when he wrote entire paragraphs down like they could be novels of their own.  

The perk was that his book was getting bigger and bigger each day, and every time someone would ask him when he'll finally be over with it, he'd say ''Soon, now.'' Which wasn't a lie but wasn't a complete truth either. The con was that the bags under his eyes seemed to take example and grow bigger each day, too. Especially since he took his days off work to, well, work. 

Right now it didn't matter, though. The only thing on Alex's mind was the cup of coffee, miraculously still warm in his palms when he took a sip, silently praying for the the caffeine to wake his brain up. It wasn't rare that he had the whole apartment to himself these days. Eliza liked to sleep over at Hercules', everybody could guess why, and when she did she usually stayed the day, too. Alexander would only see her face when she'd come back later in the evening, hair messy with tired eyes glowing with happiness.

He usually seized the opportunity to walk around body only covered by an old pair of sweatpants, fabric grown thin with the years.

Today was no exception, and so when the smaller hand of the clock passes eleven and his stomach audibly grumbles, he's still only clad in those sweatpants, practically naked. It's with a groan that he wills his fingers away from the keyboard to grab the phone and order a pizza. He'll have to put a shirt on.   

He barely has the time to stand up and stretch his limbs out when he hears a knock on the door. Pizza man would have buzzed, and well, wouldn't arrive so soon. His first thought is that it's maybe Eliza who's forgotten her keys or something when he opens the door, and well. 

It's definitely not. 

''Jefferson?'' He asks, startled. ''What are you doing here?''

When Alex had given him his address, way before France, it wasn't as an invitation to show up uninvited whenever he felt like it. And well, even if it had been, Alexander wasn't expecting him to knock on his door after their last conversation. 

''Thomas?'' He tries instead, ready to slam the door in his face if he was just going to stand there like a dumb ass. 

He blatantly ignores his body's instant reaction at seeing the man, the heat pooling at the bottom of his stomach, his fingers clutching at the door and his heart picking up its pace. It had been _so_ long. It wasn't fair, that Jefferson's stupid body, those arms in a tank top, _Jesus_ , could get a reaction out of him that quickly. 

Thomas steps into the door frame, eyebrows raised like they're a question on their own.

Alex thinks the answer should probably be no when suddenly Jefferson takes another step and slightly pushes him against the wall. 

''What-''  

''Alexander,'' Thomas says, finally, word heavy on his tongue. ''You're an asshole, you know that?'' 

Thomas has his arms stretched at Alex's sides, crowding him with his body, but not touching, not yet.

Alex takes a moment to search into the other's eyes before he gets it, tries to dance their dance once more, even if he'd swore to himself he wouldn't. 

''Am I?'' It's meant to be flirtatious, to flow out of his mouth sounding honey-sweet like.

Thomas nods, lets their bodies slowly collide like he's the South pole of a magnet and Alex's the North. His speech starts on soft. 

''You come into my apartment,'' he runs his big, warm hands over his naked chest, slowly, as if he's trying to map out his body. ''You beg me to be heartless, to punish you for something I don't even know about,'' now he's grabbing, pulling at his hair, opening his lips into a breathless gasp, harsher, ''You make me hit you, you cry your fucked up, broken heart out,'' Thomas isn't only spitting the words out but literally spluttering on him, ''You sleep in my bed, force me to wash my fucking sheets,''  

They're flush against one another, not even past the lobby of Alexander's place, and Alex doesn't have any idea of when this started nor of how it will end. He barely registers Jefferson closing the door behind him. 

''You think you can just do that?'' Thomas is gasping for breath, hand travelling down and bringing chills onto his skin before pressing an open palm against Alex's obvious arousal. ''What do you want, Alexander? Want me to use you? Want me to leave you on the ground like I couldn't care less what happens to you next?''

Alexander opens his spit-slick mouth, lets a moan out into the world, knows it probably smells like the aftertaste of cheap coffee, but he forgets about pride. It's hard to think about something else than his body right now, the slight pressure of Thomas' hand against his groin just enough to make him want more, just enough to make the thoughts in his head crash into one another. Nothing really makes sense but their bodies seem to fit almost instantly. 

''So unashamed,'' Thomas ignores Alex's open mouth, his obvious request for a kiss, and bites into his shoulder instead. ''Is that all you can do, dear? Moan instead of talk? Get fucked instead of loved?''

''Shut up,'' he manages to say, finally, repeats the two words over and over again even though he knows they won't mean anything to Thomas.

''No, you don't get to tell me that,'' Thomas echoes his own words before he continues ranting, so obviously angry it's making Alex's dick _throb_ with the possibilities. ''After everything, you don't. I'm not yours, you can't just call to me every time you're in need of a good fuck. Y'can't.''

Alex can feel every hair raising on his neck, and he swallows everything down, fingernails trying to force through the skin of his palms so hard they'll leave red, little half moons for scars. The wall is hard, pressing into the bones of his spine, and Jefferson is rough, pressing into the flesh of his being like it belongs to him. He feels trapped, hips convulsively rutting against Thomas like that would somehow give him a tiny bit of relief. 

As soon as Thomas catches the movement he steps away, refusing him satisfaction, and Alex knows he must look utterly wrecked, simply by Thomas' open mouth and hungry eyes. They're filled with something more than lust, Alex finds. It's a look he's never seen on the other man, and while Jefferson always _played_ angry and hateful towards him, this time it seems different. Like the dark brown eyes could turn red any moment, like horns could grow out of his forehead and he could lick the salt off his skin with a forked tongue. 

Jefferson doesn't smirk, he doesn't laugh, doesn't push him on his knees. It's a long, almost too long moment of silently standing still before Thomas roughly unzips his own pants, like the decision made itself in a millisecond, a spark that quickly ignited the fire. 

Alex doesn't know what to do with his own body when Thomas presses onto him once more, this time a different step in the dance. Thomas doesn't pay any attention to his body other than the sharp teeth that clash on the skin of his right shoulder where he's rested his head, open mouthed, breathing heavily.

 _He's jerking himself off_ , Alex realizes suddenly, whole body tensing. Jefferson's fucking his own fist right there, chest pressed hard against Alexander's like it shouldn't even be there. He feels useless but used, and so he can't help but bring his arms around Jefferson's body and grab at the soft fabric of the man's shirt. That doesn't even manage to get Jefferson looking into his eyes. It doesn't do anything, really.

So he falls on his last resort. 

His words. 

They suddenly flow. 

''You're gonna come on me, Thomas? That's how you're gonna do it?'' 

The reaction he gets is far from what he was expecting. 

Jefferson uses his free hand to grab his hair tightly, and at first he doesn't do anything but it's fast when Thomas seems to use all of his strength to pull back, roughly, too hard. Alex lets a scream out into the world, because it _hurts_ , it really does, especially since Thomas doesn't let go. It's nothing like he's ever imagined before, nothing like the dreams he woke up of in denial, still hard in his bottoms, the feeling of agony lingering on his skin from something that never actually happened. Alexander's eyes see nothing but sharp pain for a second too long. 

His whole body jerks, he doesn't even recognize the sounds that are falling from his mouth at this point, right before Thomas comes into his own hand.

Right before _he_ comes into his own pants, wet spot slowly but surely growing at the front of them.  

He knows he's red when he brings a hand up to soothe his scalp, when he winces at the little electric shocks that sends through his body and the new found sticky discomfort in his pants. The orgasm had happened so fast Alex couldn't even tell if it was truly good. Felt more like an explosion of _too much_. 

''Did you-'' Thomas looks troubled, anger which was once blinding red on his face dimmed a bit. 

''Yeah,'' he says while purposely avoiding eyes contact. He stays flush against the wall, like it's the only thing anchoring him on the ground. Again, Thomas is apparently full of surprises, because he doesn't step back, doesn't give him space, just stays there. Like he belongs. 

''Are you going to leave, now?'' He wills it to sound caring-less, and it probably does, by the way Jefferson's mouth slams shut with force, when it was opened in awe mere seconds ago.

''I should,'' He answers. ''It's what you deserve.'' 

Even Jefferson doesn't look like he believes in his own words. 

Changes in attitude apparently happen quick in people like Thomas Jefferson, and maybe it's because he's gotten the bad out, Alexander will probably never understand, but instead of storming off the door and leaving him with come stained sweatpants from something that couldn't even be qualified as sex, Thomas asks,

''Do you have anything to drink?'' 

Alex slowly nods as he registers the words. 

''Sweet,'' Thomas says as he finally steps away. ''You should probably change.'' 

His smile looks wicked. 

-

''You like pain,'' Thomas says for a fact around a mouthful of pizza, and if that wasn't enough to make Alexander spit his water out, the ''You come in your pants from it'' that followed was.

He quickly rubbed the cold water on his shirt, willing it to get warmer. This whole day was growing less and less pleasant by the minute. If Thomas was going to waste his Sunday by watching crappy TV with him while eating pizza from the cheapest place he could find, fine, Alex could handle that. But he didn't think he could handle _that_.  

''Jesus, do you have to be so...'' It takes him a second to find the word. ''Blatant?'' 

''You know me,'' Thomas says like that wasn't a complete lie. ''Plus, you look so cute when you blush.'' 

Alexander sees the hand coming from miles away, about to _rub his fucking cheek_ , so he stands up like the couch caught on fire. Or perhaps he's the one who had. 

''Right, just make fun of me, that's great,'' He mutters ''asshole'' under his breath and is ready to leave his own goddamn living room when Jefferson grabs him by the arm and pulls him back down on the couch. 

''Wow, calm down,'' Thomas looks annoyed but he nonetheless adds, ''Sorry, didn't mean to offend you. I'm just saying.'' 

''Just saying what?'' The answer was obvious but stalling for time could have been Alexander's profession. 

''You get off on pain,'' He says. Alex let the words sink in for a while, the fact that it was Thomas saying them strange but not... unexpected. ''You do, right? That's why we have this... thing.'' 

Alex stared at the pizza leftovers when he nodded. He couldn't even remember the last time, if any, they had had a decent conversation. This was too much of an unknown territory, like he was walking on glass above a pit so deep he couldn't exactly tell _how deep_. 

''I guess,'' he admits, feeling small. It was Thomas' turn to nod, as if he was thinking, and they stayed in silence for a while. Alex was happy with that. 

He was finally starting to get interested into the story line of the show, almost forgetting Jefferson was sitting beside him, when the man suddenly said,

''We need a safe word,'' before passing a hand in his thick hair. ''We should have a safe word.'' 

Alex tears his eyes away from the screen,

''A safe word?'' He repeats, and he knows he heard the term somewhere but he isn't quite sure where.

Thomas' body seems to tense, suddenly. He sounds careful when he says,

''It's a, huh.'' Alex looks at Thomas intensively as he fondles with the words. ''A BDSM term? Not really. Well... You never looked it up?''

If Thomas thought that even a tiny bit explained things, he was dead wrong. Alex's confusion persisted.

''Looked it up? No, I didn't, I mean... I don't think we're doing BDSM stuff.'' At least he knows what that is.

Thomas looks at him and says, flat,

''You wanted me to hit you. For sexual pleasure.''

There's a pause.

''Just now, you came-'' 

''Okay, okay!'' He interrupted, accepting defeat simply so he wouldn't hear the rest of that sentence _again_. ''Just, you know, you... you liked it too!'' 

-

Thomas spends the next week texting him words at random hours, things going from Carrot to Alarm and even Austin. Every time, they're followed by many question marks, and every time Alex finds a reason of why he doesn't like them. _Seriously, a vegetable?_ and _That sounds weird when its said fast_ and _Really, Austin?_

The whole thing somehow ticked Alexander off in a wrong way. And while he still had trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that _they needed a fucking safe word_ , Jefferson seemed completely unbothered. Like the whole thing wasn't that much of a big deal, like he'd forgotten this wasn't something they were supposed to do at all, supposed to have arrangements on and for.

So he says no to every suggestions. Finds reasons after reasons, and thankfully Jefferson doesn't completely deny him sex because of it when Alex randomly shows up at his house with a hard on. 

He just gets more careful. Asks him if everything's okay, stops insulting him through his teeth to kiss him on the shoulder blade, and every time Alex groans and says ''I'm _fine_ ,'' Thomas whispers ''Okay'' and eventually goes back to being rough. To being good. 

But he holds back. Alexander can feel it through every touch, every bite, he knows that it could be harsher and deeper and _better_. He knows what he's missing on, now.

It's sick, from deep in his core he knows it is, but he just wants his scalp to burn again. 

-

''This isn't a relationship.'' 

''I know.'' 

''It'll never be. I don't-''

''I know.''

''It can't grow into anything more. And my friends, well, Eliza, can't know about this.''

''Alex, I _kno_ -''

''Okay, see, even nicknames, I feel like that's already stepping too much into-''

''Alexander, please, shut up.''

''I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page.'' 

''I am. Can we get back to fucking now?''

''Yeah, _yeah_ , okay.'' 

-

They settle on ''Time''.Alex ignores Jefferson's relieved smile and the way he licks his lips in an attempt to hide it from him.  

-

It happens in the blink on an eye. The flick of a light. Things going from screwed to well to screwed again, like they always seem to do in his pitiful, miserable and fucking pathetic excuse of a life.   

Thomas calls. Thomas comes over, Thomas kisses him, Thomas gets in his bed. Thomas is muscular and pretty and has a shining smile that could seduce millions, Thomas is everything easy and everything _not_. He's got a wonderful dick he knows how to use, and better yet he doesn't expect _jack squat_ from him.  He has classy shoes and  well fitted pants, arrogance, confidence. Once again Thomas is a lion, while Alex is a gazelle. But still Thomas calls and he comes over and he kisses him and he gets in his bed and Alex never says no. It's practically become part of the routine. Expected.

What isn't expected, though, is Eliza coming back home from work earlier than she usually does. He hears the distinct sound of the keys dangling from the key chain she swings on her index finger before he hears her yell his name. 

''Fuck,'' he tries to be quick, practically elbows Thomas in the face in his hurried attempt to get out of bed. He half whispers, half yells his name to try and get him moving. 

Jefferson's eyes grow wide but he simply looks down on his naked self, as if to say he doesn't know what to do with it. Alex feels the panic climbing up in his system, from his shaking fingers to his heart that's now beating in the bottom of his stomach. He magically manages to find Thomas' clothes piece by piece and throw them at him, but then he hears Eliza's steps in the hallway and accepts defeat.

They're fucked. 

He barely has the time to pull his sweatpants up to hips when Eliza's knuckles do the little three-thumps rhythm she always does when she knocks on a door. Of course, she knows of no boundaries between them, and so she gently pushes the door open to announce her arrival. 

''Alexander? Megan took the rest of my shift, maybe we could go grab-'' The rest of the sentence dies in her mouth when she takes in the scene, Alex standing there half naked and Thomas in his bed, covered by the thin fabric of the blanket and a t-shirt that hasn't even been pulled down to cover all of his stomach. It's a second of pure, uncomfortable silence before she nods, swallows in understanding and leaves the scene of the crime without closing the door on them. 

''Eliza, Eliza, wait, where are you going?'' He hits the door wide open and follows, hurrying to catch up from behind her before they both end up in the living room. 

It's then that she turns around. 

''Thomas Jefferson? _That_ man? Really?'' She pauses to sigh. ''Please tell me this isn't real.''

He desperately wants to tell her what she wants to hear, deny, lie, knows he should, but it's too late. Eliza's already got that disappointing look in her eyes, like he's the biggest disappointment she knows. 

''It's not- I didn't mean for it to happen like that. You know how I hate him.'' The words, the _lie_ , falls off his mouth too easily.  

Thomas chooses that moment to walk in, for once trying to make himself small. Alex wants to send an apologetic look his way, but Eliza's quick to send him her own awful glare. 

''It's been him all along, hasn't it?'' She asks, gaze shifting between the two of them and completely ignoring Alexander's previous sentence. 

He doesn't know what else to do but nod. He almost feels like the movement of his head is too small to be noticeable, but she unfortunately catches it. He can feel his own heart pounding into his ears. 

''Alex, he isn't... he isn't good for you. What are you doing?'' 

''Did we ask for your advice?'' Thomas asks, bitter and all teeth. Alex finds himself placing a hand on his torso to calm him down. His skin is warm, raging fire burning from within his chest, enormous contrast to his own cold hands. He practically feels like all the life has been sucked out of him by the tip of his fingers. Or maybe he just can't feel anything.

He wonders how he could have _ever_ been so stupid.

''No, you didn't.'' She stops to turn her body fully towards Thomas, and Alex drops his hand. ''But I, for one, really care about Alex and know what's best for him. He's just confused, you're not what he...''

She pauses, swallows her own words down.

''This makes absolutely _no sense_.'' She puts emphasis on the last two words, dropping her arms at her side after having brought them up in exasperation. She seems genuinely confused, brows furrowed creating a crease in between them, but Alex can't stop the flow of words that follow.

''Maybe you actually don't know what you're talking about.'' He can see the pang of surprise and hurt in Eliza's eyes. Still, he goes on. ''How would you? We haven't really talked in what, weeks? Months?''

She huffs, now angrier, and Alex can almost see all the energy going into her body, static, making her straighten her back and raise her arms in the air once more. He feels like, on is part, energy is draining out from his feet. Yet Jefferson steps closer to him and it's like he has the whole world supporting him from behind. For once the man shuts up, and while he should a wave of relief at that, he realizes he probably wouldn't be strong enough to face Eliza if he were on his own. 

Kind of pathetic.

''You wanna know why we've stopped talking, Alex? Because you completely shut down. It's what you do. Once again, instead of going to your friends for help you turn to temporary, easy and this time _literal_ fucks like Jefferson.'' 

The conversation was going somewhere else, somewhere Alex wasn't quite ready to go yet. Thomas probably felt like a witness to something he shouldn't be a part of, and he'd be right to feel that way. Maybe that's why his voice is weak when he says,

''Maybe I should go.''

Eliza and him both answer simultaneously.

''Yes.''

''No.''

That brings silence in the room, intense silence Eliza eventually breaks by saying,

''Look, it's your life. But you know I love you. I care about you. _John_ cared about you.'' The verb used in the past hits hard. ''These are your bad decisions to make. But hey, maybe you're right. Maybe I just don't know you anymore.''

He feels the tears swelling up in his eyes before he can even register the words completely. He's aware of Thomas placing a hand on the end of his back, but he steps away from the touch and after Eliza who's making a move to walk out the apartment.  

''Eliza, that's not what I-''

''Shh,'' Thomas shushes him down, a whisper in his ear, giving Eliza the time to get out the apartment before he can stop her. ''Give her time. She'll get used to... us.'' 

He wants to scream, yell that there isn't an _us_ , that there will never be, but he can't deny what's happening right in front of him, as blatant as it can be, the way Jefferson's looking at him with a glint in his eyes that doesn't scream hate but something else entirely. The man has kept contact between the two of them, a tiny yet important physical touch, hand this time placed right below his shoulder. He almost wishes the fingers would burn through the fabric of his shirt and scar him for life, wishes for the warmth to stay there forever.  

It's then that it hits Alexander, that he can't remember exactly why he hated Thomas in the first place. 

-

The premiere's airing but Alex can't even find it in himself to turn the Tv on, simply reads his manager's emails telling him people are reacting _great_ to it. It makes the weight in his heart a little less heavy, the guilt of everything he's done a secondhand thought when there's this huge thing he's worked so hard on out there for the world to see and the world is liking it. He's sure no one's paying attention to his character that much, or the actor playing him, but it comforts him to think that maybe, out there, there's people who are going to see his other work and think, _Hey, he played that character in that show I liked!_

At least that was something he could be doing right in his life. 

It's exactly 10 PM, the episode just ended, when Alex's phone lights up to life with a text from Thomas. 

It reads,

'' _You were actually pretty decent in that. Good job, man_.'' 

He smiles, accepts 'pretty decent' as a compliment over anything else Jefferson could have said.

'' _So you were watching, huh?_ '' He types back, stopping himself from thinking about the fact that he's not changing apps or closing his phone but staring intensively at the three little dots moving on the screen.

'' _The lead is hot._ '' Is Thomas' response. Alex actually laughs at that, even though he knows Jefferson means Nina and not him. He's far from being the lead.

He doesn't text something back right away, and so Thomas double texts.

'' _Have you talked to Eliza? Or anyone, in the past three days?'_ '   

His smile seems to melt off his face and he cringes at his phone's screen. The truth is that he hasn't, and while he missed Eliza dearly, she'd thrown herself into work and hadn't made one move to talk to him, even if they're living under the same roof. He couldn't help but accept the fact that she was much better off without him in his life. Lafayette and Hercules, too. They'd been there after college, they'd pulled him up when the whole world seemed to have collapsed, when depression hit hard and he had no career or life path to follow. He would sulk in his room all day long, and still, Eliza, angel sent by heaven, would bring him food and be a strong shoulder to cry on, Lafayette would make it his duty to make him laugh at least once every day, and Hercules would bring him baked goods. That wasn't enough to actually beat it all, but it was enough to stop him from going outside and literally ask somebody to shoot him.     

'' _I was actually thinking about moving out._ '' He types, and it takes him a second before he hits send. Thomas' only response is an, '' _Oh._ '' 

Alex shuts his phone off right after quickly typing out three small words. 

'' _I'm coming over._ '' 

-

He had a strange feeling of deja vu, kneeling on Jefferson's carpet. Though this time his hands were clasped behind his back, and he was resting his ass on the heels of his feet. Also, well, he was completely naked. Where usually he'd feel self conscious and exposed he felt a weird rush of freedom in his veins. He was freed of all decisions, all responsibility, didn't need to think about anything else than what was asked of him. His brain had been cleaned completely blank as soon as Thomas had requested of him to fall on his knees, and while sure, he felt nervous, he couldn't really pinpoint any other feeling, any other thought. 

He beams at the realization. 

''What are you smiling about?'' Thomas asks suddenly, crouching down to pass a thumb on his dried lips. Alex licks them as soon as the movement stops. ''You like this?'' 

He feels himself _grinning,_ doesn't know how much of a mistake that isuntil Thomas stands back up in his full height and looks down on him like he's a stain on his carpet. 

''Well then I'm not sure if I do.'' Thomas looks evil as he unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off, all lean muscle and golden skin standing as tall as the Empire State Building. Alex gulps down his smile. 

''Good.'' It's Jefferson's turn to flash his teeth, and Alex feels his heart skipping a beat. He doesn't know what to expect when he says,

''Please,'' shifting on his knees. His skin was already starting to burn from the irritation, rough carpet acting like sandpaper. It was a nice slow burn, one that tickled all the way to his groin and his chest, something not quite like shame blossoming in his brain when he realized he was supporting a quite pathetic semi on his thigh.  

''What would your friends say, seeing you like this, already getting hard and begging for... for what, exactly?''

He's surprised his brain holds coherent enough thoughts to answer. 

''Relief.'' It's almost as if his voice breaks when he continues. ''Just... touch me. Anywhere. Please, God, please.'' 

'' _Relief_ ,'' Jefferson laughs, all heart and cruelty put into it. Alex doesn't know if he's acting but, if he is, he's goddamn good at it. ''Oh, baby.'' It's said with a hint of pity. 

Alex hates himself when his erection fills up even more, blood travelling fast and making his need of friction less bearable. Thomas hasn't even put a finger on him yet, and still there he is. A fucking mess.

He kneels down in front of him, at enough a distance that even if Alex unclasped his hands and tried to reach out for him, he couldn't. Well, not until Thomas lets his open palms rest on the carpet too, supporting his upper body, and suddenly he's on all fours. Alex can see the slight curve of his back from that angle, the Calvin Klein's sticking out of his dark jeans. They're predator and prey, and he's about to get eaten alive. 

He closes his eyes and suppresses a moan.  

When he opens them, Thomas kisses him. Just like torture, it's slow and agonizing, and the man shifts closer as he gets more into the kiss. Alex tries to do the same, but with his arms still resting on his back, he can't lean into it as he'd like to without falling over. All he can do is take it, and so he does, takes everything Thomas is willing to give him. He teases Alex's lips with the hint of tongue, just enough to have him open his mouth eagerly, and then he's claiming every part of it, until suddenly his face is grabbed with a rough hand and they're not kissing anymore.

''Still need to beg?''

 _Yes, yes, yes, yes._  

He doesn't answer. Thomas seems pleased, and so he gets up again. He grabs Alex from under his arms and pulls him up in one swing, like he weights no more than a feather. Alex can barely feel his legs, doesn't know if he can stand up on his own, doesn't know for how long he's been in the same position either. His sore muscles are only now making him realize it must have been for a while. It doesn't even really feel like he's a part of his body anymore. 

''Get on the bed, Alexander.'' He's unzipping his pants, carefully stepping out of them before casually adjusting himself in his boxers. Alex feels himself relax when he catches the action, the simple fact that this whole thing is affecting Thomas just as much making him feel less alone. He makes an effort not to show it, though, simply lies down on the bed, exactly as he's been asked to.

He's waiting for the praise but it doesn't come.

''No, on all fours.''  Thomas makes the words sound so casual, not like the filthy command they actually are, and so Alex feels his dick throb as he shifts over. The bed sinks a bit under his weight and all he can do is grab the blanket with both hands, resisting the urge to unbend his knees and let his hips thrust into the mattress to _finally_ get some sort of friction. But he doesn't. He controls himself with the only thought that Jefferson's about to fuck him good and hard, that he's done teasing at this point, right until he doesn't feel or see him walk around the bed to get the lube.

''Thomas?'' He says the name in a question, voice small yet intrigued. He tries to turn his head around to get a look at the other man, but Jefferson's reflexes are fast and Alex's head is roughly turned back forward, one side of his face harshly pressed into the mattress. He can hardly breathe.

Alex can feel every inch of his godlike body pressing on his back when Thomas hunches over to talk close to his ear, his dick hard, pressing on his ass a great reminder of what's to come. 

''Do as I say, nothing else. You know what to do if it gets... too much.'' He nibbles on his earlobe before biting down and licking a stripe up his neck. The last thing Alex wants to be reminded of right now is their stupid safeword, but Thomas manages to say the sentence like it's a challenge, too much pride and arrogance put into the last two words. 

Alex smiles, unseen. He's in for the ride, nothing less.

Thomas pushes himself back onto his knees behind him and Alex can finally breathe freely. For a moment that's all that can be heard in the room, his own hard inhales and exhales gradually becoming less until finally his lungs stop aching and he's back to his normal breathing pattern.

His dick is fully hard, now. 

He shifts a bit when the silence grows longer, shimmies his hips in a poor attempt to get more comfortable. Thomas makes a _sound_.  

And that's when he gets the first hit, open palm against his left cheek, leaving a sting behind.  

-

He can't find a comfortable position to sit in with his laptop and he's cursing Jefferson to hell, although not giving up on writing altogether. Inspiration was pouring out of him, flowing through his fingers, and so he sighed and sucked it up, knowing actually how rare that was for him.

He deeply wanted to regret the night before last night, but he didn't. He couldn't. Thomas had climbed into his skin and stuck himself under his nails and he'd ruined everything else that used to be good enough in this world. There was no going back. 

It's after a cold shower and a slice of equally cold pizza that he finally manages to dim the pain, and it's not until the last words of his book are on the page that he realizes they're the _last words_.  

He screams in happiness and falls asleep right on his desk. 

-

''Alexander?'' 

He wakes up with drool on his arm and a headache, groaning into his flesh before he opens his eyes. Eliza's standing in his door frame, one shoulder rested on the edge of the wall and a glass of water in her right hand. He feels like his brain is surrounded by a thick fog as he looks into Eliza's eyes. She looks as drained as he is, body slack with fatigue and eyelids heavy. He intensively stares at the bags under her eyes and wonders if he's responsible for them, wonders if caring for him really brought her down into the ground with him. If it's true that he actually dug her grave and shoveled the last shovel of dirt on top of it to truly finish the job.  

His name is the first thing she's said to him in days. 

As she carefully puts the glass on the corner of his desk, he starts crying.

''Oh, Alexander.'' She fully comes into the room then, to sit right on the edge of the bed. Alex gets up from his desk chair, at a loss of what to do with himself, as he frantically tries to wipe the tears away from his cheeks. ''Will you please stop crying?''

He laughs, bitterly.

''I'm very much trying to do so.'' At least his voice doesn't crack in the middle of the sentence. Talking to Eliza feels foreign, and his heart breaks at the realization.

''I'm sorry,'' he says, suddenly, even if the words burn on the way up his throat.

''You don't have to apologize to me.''

''But I do. I should have told you, I shouldn't have...''

She sighs, undoes her hair simply to put it back up in a bun again. It's a moment of her struggling to find the right words before she finally says,

''I shouldn't have a say in your love life. You don't need my approval.'' She licks her lips before taking a much needed breath. ''I simply think... I care for John, too. Cheating on him with a man you despise...''

''I know,'' he says. ''It was stupid and I regret it. But you know, I don't...'' The rest of the sentence sits patiently on the tip of his tongue, and yet he doesn't find the strength to admit it all. Instead, he goes with, 

''I didn't love John.''

''I know,'' she says with a slight and sad smile, the first he's seen her do in what feels like years now. She searches into his eyes for a while and she seems to _know._  He stands there trying not to choke on his own breath, sob, heart, when she asks,

''Do you love Thomas?''  

-

The coffee tastes too bitter and misses some sugar but he's drinking it anyways, one sip after the other, if only to occupy his hands. Silence is less awkward when it's shared over food of any kind, Alex realized with time and growth. The pauses to appreciate the dish are welcomed and natural. It doesn't look like you're desperately trying to avoid conversation when you're shoving food into you're mouth. It just looks like you're enjoying said food. 

''This is good,'' he lies nevertheless, because it seems he can't help it. It brings a smile on Thomas' face, small but still there, and Alex decides it doesn't matter if the coffee is actually to his liking or not. 

He slowly swallows the last drop of the drink and reluctantly faces reality. It's time for awkward goodbyes, there's no way he can escape that. 

''Well, last night was-'' He wants to sit up but somehow his legs refuse to. He settles on fondling with the now empty cup of coffee on the table. ''It was nice. Thanks.''

They spent yet another night together, one that Alex could hardly forget. Eliza hadn't looked happy at his leaving, but she'd hugged him goodbye nonetheless. It was enough, a start. 

He was staring at the morning light, barely shining through the window and lighting the dust flying across the room when Thomas spoke.  

''After everything, do you seriously still feel the need to thank me?'' His voice was maybe meant to sound like he was joking, but there was an after taste of truth behind the sentence Alexander couldn't help but notice. 

''I mean, I guess you're right, I shouldn't.'' He pauses but doesn't have time to wonder if he should really say what else is on his mind. His mouth does anyway. ''I just don't really know what else to say.''  

Jefferson nods in understanding, because they're both aware they don't have that much in common except for when they're in the bedroom. It's a long silence where Alex is painfully aware he should get up and leave, maybe with a kiss if they're both in the mood for it, when Thomas suddenly says,

''You've never asked me how France was.'' 

Alex smiles and rolls his eyes into the deep end of his skull because yeah, leave it to Thomas to find a subject of conversation that is completely, strictly about him. 

''Well, do tell.''

**Author's Note:**

> Y'ALL. That's it. I'm not writing any more of this verse. That was a happy ending, right? As happy as it can get with those two. 
> 
> Again, hUGE thanks to Michelle (kolminye) for everything. 
> 
> Every comment is so deeply appreciated, I never leave one unanswered. Kudos are too, of course. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr to scream at things @linsanities


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